


A Winter Dream

by ylvisucka



Series: Paris, XIX Century [1]
Category: Ylvis
Genre: AU Late 1800, Fluff, M/M, Smut, They're in Paris, Ylviscest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylvisucka/pseuds/ylvisucka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ylvisaker brothers are known across Europe for their beautiful acts and plays. But what is hidden behind the curtains and what will the brothers say about the Capital of Arts once their relationship is finally accepted? The title is from a poem by Arthur Rimbaud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a little series I made; more explanation in the end of the second part. I hope you enjoy ^-^

Another day, taking another train away from that little village. It’s our first actually big gig after a long time; we finally got to go to Paris. The opening of a new cabaret in town attracted me to perform and stay a little longer than we should; so after the performance we had at that exact cabaret, we would take a break and live by whatever means we had.  
For most people, we were two strange northern men who wanted to try their luck across the Europe, with our own singing, dancing and acting skills. We produced ourselves, wrote our own plays or monologues, we soot by ourselves. And we managed it very well; for 5 years now, we have travelled through so many cities that I can barely count.  
We could easily blend in with the folks in Poland, Denmark, even Germany, we kinda look like them. But the Parisians, they will notice as soon as they hear our names that we are not from there and that we are maybe trying to penetrate in that other ambient. Maybe we did want to stay there. I and my little brother were very tired from all the travelling, the annoyance of having to be in trains all the time and performing almost every night.  
Bård was asleep while I was thinking about all the possibilities that the European capital of all Arts can bring us. He could always sleep through all the movement the train made, all the people talking in the wagon, nothing stopped him from resting his eyes. Will we enjoy our stay? Will we be able to maintain ourselves for long? I honestly don’t know and don’t care either; I know that as long as I’m with him, I’m fine.  
  
\--x—  
  
\-- Wake up, Bård, we are here. And it’s so fucking crowded. – I kissed his forehead to wake him up softly, as he did. I almost didn’t sleep this night, thinking about everything. I often did that and Bård said it annoyed him a lot.  
\-- I’m awake, I’m awake… Let’s get out bags and get the hell out of here, we still have to go to the fancy brit hotel. – he was talking about Hotel Maurice, and it’s incredible how he treated the best hotel in the whole city as a “fancy brit hotel”. Oh, well.  
We got our few bags and went off the train. We managed to speak a bad French to ask for directions and get ourselves to the said hotel. We were dressed as legitimate French guys: all black coats down to our knees, a small hat that covered our black and blonde hair, pants and shoes also black. The suitcases were not that big, we could carry it with only one hand, and they were a dark shade of brown. It was cold in Paris in that time of the year and all we could see was persons dressed like us, some with bags, other with canes, some sitting down to drink coffee at the Grand Station Café.  
I was already feeling like I would adore living in that town forever, a feeling that just increased when we got to the hotel. They obviously noticed we were foreigners when I said “nous sommes Bård et Vegard Ylvisåker” with a bad pronunciation and emphasis in our weirdly Norwegian names; but they didn’t received us bad. They actually received us better than they would receive French people.  
\-- Told you. Fancy brit hotel, fancy brit manners. – Bård said once we got to our room. As always, we got only one room, with a double bed. We said it was convenient and cheap, but we knew it wasn’t quite because of that. We knew the secrets we shared in every bed we stayed, a wicked game we played between ourselves that only we knew about it. And in the minute I locked the door later in that night, I would hear the first call to play that game.  
  
We got ready to go to our big gig for a while, went around the streets of Paris before it was the actual time for us to be there. I was really enjoying that place, no dirty looks were given to us, especially when we got near to that recently opened cabaret. It was called Moulin Rouge, and it didn’t seem like a big deal yet, but all the drunkards and street women that were around made me feel strangely welcome, and so did Bård. We laughed and played around, nobody cared; we had the best time and a wonderful show after (and before) the can-can dancers. We enjoyed ourselves as we never had.  
Once we got back to the hotel, tired and drunk, we went straight to the bedroom, almost didn’t say good night to the workers in the hotel. Bård got in first and started to get the heavy winter clothes off, while I locked the door.  
\-- Vegard… Come to bed rest with me. – I was called to play with him.  
\-- As if we would get any rest. – we almost never did. Or we stayed talking, drinking, kissing or simply… fucking. As if it wasn’t weird and disgusting enough (for the others) to be a gay man, I had to be in love with my own brother. Of course the rumors said a lot of bad thing about us, we were both men in our good age, around our 20’s, we should be married, have children and an established home. But we pursued this unstable career, this life between only us. Back in our birthplace, there were all kinds of rumors that we didn’t want to exist (even though we knew the truth behind it), we didn’t want to hurt our families with it; we could only run away.  
Away from all the fuzz that we caused in our own homes, we didn’t mind what people said, even though we listened and almost got beaten up because of our “weird behavior”. Luckily enough, Bård was brave to protect the both of us. We avoided any kind of contact when we were outside the bedroom, but one of the reasons I wanted to stay in Paris so much was this: I felt we could be free there. We didn’t have to tell people we are brothers, or say anything at all… we could be ourselves.  
  
After gazing at that beautiful blonde man, that was already half naked lying in bed, I took all my heavy clothes off and lay on top of him. We kissed under the light of an almost fading candle light and the bright moon of Paris. It was all too romantic, the shadow of that recently built monument was over us (Parisians knew how to make it big, huh? Why such a big thing in the middle of the town?), and I felt like I loved him even more.  
While we kissed and took more clothes off, we said gibberish in Norwegian, with some laughs and pecks on each other’s lips. I guess I would never love someone as much as love him, his perfect blue eyes, the pink and thin lips, well-built body and some inches taller than mine. We were so different in appearance that no one would even say we are brothers; I was dark haired, brown eyes, a little shorter and not as worked out. I loved this difference in looks, but our proximity in mind and soul.  
Once we both were fully naked and under the covers, he started to touch me and stroke my cock slowly, the way he knew I loved it. I moaned quietly, as I’ve learnt to do over the years of secrecy, and he kept on with his great job, speeding up. I did the same for him and I enjoyed so much seeing that young and delighted face trying to look at me, pleasure me, and enjoy that moment, all at the same time. The candle eventually burned out and we were left with only the moonlight when we reached our climaxes together.  
We had the whole night, probably a whole life to stay in that place. I wasn’t going to bother the angel that was lying under me, already drunk sleeping with a blissful face. Maybe I would talk about my plans for us tomorrow. But for now, I just want to stay under the French moonlight and love my true soulmate.


End file.
